Dear Olivia,
There will be moments in life where you will feel like life is vomiting on you. No matter how much you try to bob and weave, the crap will always find you. The last few weeks have been difficult – not in the disastrous way of a death or anything but just little things piling up on top of one another. We just returned from our vacation to Cape Cod and the weeks leading up to the trip were tough. The anticipation of a trip is always exhausting and sometimes will even have you questioning whether all the planning leading up to the trip is worth it. Add this on top of an event filled summer, I’m damn near a breaking point. To say that I have over booked the summer is an understatement. In an effort to minimize the time you and Miles spend here at the house, I have scheduled activity after activity as a means to keep you two busy and out of each other’s hair. Instead, it has left me exhausted, you two still fight given the opportunity and you still manage to go to bed later every night. I’m failing some where and I can’t pinpoint where exactly which tells me I’m failing at it all. I can understand why Moms unite with a boisterous applause when school is finally back in session. Never have I missed a steady routine so much that involved getting you out of the house and in to the care of someone else.
Some of the activities you are partaking in this summer include weekly swimming camps and a Little Mozart music class which is kind of a joke. It’s all about exposure, right? The swimming camps have been really successful. They are held four days a week for thirty minutes a session. You were only going to swim class once a week which proved to be a big fart. You weren’t progressing and you spent more time sitting on the top step in trouble than actually learning any skills. Apparently you respond better to a more rigorous schedule. I’ll make sure to keep this in mind. You’re currently learning side breathing with arm strokes and you appear to be thoroughly enjoying it – what more could I ask for? Where Miles has thrown in the towel in life, you continue to persevere and I dig that about you. You definitely had some moments where you struggled with swimming and I could tell you were doubting yourself but you kept at it and you continue to enjoy it. That’s all a parent really wants. As far as your music class, let’s just say that will be a one time venture. It’s supposed to be a class that exposes children to all things music. It’s true, you sing songs and dance around but then twenty minutes of the one hour class is devoted to coloring. I don’t need to pay $150 to watch that. I can duplicate the experience by throwing down a pen and paper while blasting Pandora in the background while shouting out forte and pianissimo every now and then. Bam, you just had your first music lesson.
As I mentioned earlier, we just returned from our vacation to Cape Cod where we rented a house again with your Aunt Sarah, Uncle Jay and Cousin Jack. Given the nightmarish days leading up to the trip, it really was an enjoyable vacation. We played on the beach, ate ice cream, played some more at the beach, ate a crab cake, went to a baseball game and pooped in the pool at the prestigious Chatham Bars Inn & Spa. Nothing says ‘I’m classy’ like dropping a deuce in the swimming pool. Let’s just say your young intestinal system is still not quite ready for orange juice. After I washed out your bathing suit three times and received frequent reports from your Father as to the condition and the whereabouts of your stool floating in the pool, we happily and cautiously returned without anyone suspecting we were the culprits. Success!
Our main purpose for traveling to Cape Cod was for the wedding of your second cousin(?) Bryant to his lovely bride, Lisa. This was in fact your first wedding and you were beyond excited to attend the nuptials. You talked about it frequently in the days leading up to the trip and you were very interested to know whether there would be kissing amongst these two individuals. As I expected, you embraced the festivities with open arms. It makes sense – a wedding encompasses just about everything you adore: dressing up, an all you-can-eat buffet, fancy drinks with cherries, dancing, cake, and more dancing. You just about fell over and died when you discovered the basket in the women’s bathroom with free feminine products. I’ve never seen a child more happier to hold a floss pick. I will forever envision you in the middle of the bathroom with one hand on your chest asking, for me? Yes, my darling, the dental floss is all for you.
The summer is nearly over and as I wait anxiously for the first day of school, we push on. I enjoy spending time with you but you and Miles together will force me to have an aneurysm. You two are excellent at pushing each other’s buttons and ultimately, pushing mine. For what ever reason, Miles hates it when you call him little fella or if you tell him that he looks posh. While you’re chasing him around the house calling him a posh little fella, he’s screaming at the top of his lungs that he’s in fact not a little fella but a boy – I’m crouched down in the pantry, once again stress-eating. What’s even more insane is that you two are just getting started with this sibling nonsense. I imagine at some point, I will be hosing the two of you down in an attempt to break up an argument. Is is wrong that this is more of a desire? Despite the banter that goes on between you and Miles, you’re actually a pretty awesome four year old. You’re the only four year old I know who walks around the house reciting ‘Portlandia’ and who gets props from the band you’re paying tribute to on YouTube. That’s right, the Norwegian band, Kid Astray, thinks you’re awesome. Despite the hectic schedule we’ve had and my desperate plea to return you to school, I will miss your presence throughout the day once school begins. Try not to take it personal though if come the first day of school, I’m the one standing in the driveway waving the giant ‘Bon Voyage’ flag. I suspect even you may be uttering a ‘good riddance’ under your breath at the end of this summer. As the saying goes, the party’s over once someone poops in the pool. This party is most definitely over.
Love,
Momma
You according to my phone:
